


A Sprig of Mistletoe

by PlotQueen



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-15
Updated: 2007-01-15
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:38:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlotQueen/pseuds/PlotQueen
Summary: Jazz, Tucker, a sprig of mistletoe, and an empty house.





	A Sprig of Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> For Me The Anon One, an even exchange for On Thin Ice. Because I don’t do Tucker/Jazz smut for just anyone. Really. Even though you turned out to be a jerk. It's been 10 years and I'm still not over the betrayal.

Tucker didn’t know what he was expecting when he knocked on the Fenton door at three in the afternoon. Actually, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what he was expecting. For Danny and Sam to answer the door, asking him where he’d been, and then for Sam to growl at him as he poked the sprig of mistletoe over her head, and for Danny to shoot a green-eyed glare his way before Tucker planted one on her. Hopefully tricking Danny into kissing her himself.

At least, that’s what he expected. But it wasn’t what he got. Instead, he got a perfectly quiet house answered by a slim red-haired girl he hadn’t seen since the previous spring, the last time she’d made it home for a holiday. Jazz, according to her doting parents and Danny (when he wasn’t complaining about her), took four classes during the optional summer semester and was eighteen credits closer to her Bachelors in Psychology. And the last time he’d seen her, she’d certainly looked different.

“Jazz,” Tucker said a little too brightly as his eyes skimmed across her slender frame. She wasn’t tall. Taller than Sam, but most people were. Slim and slender, and curved, he noticed with a grin, in all the right places. She was wearing simple jeans, her feet were bare, and she’d tugged on a short sleeved green shirt, obviously not planning on being outside in the snowy weather.

But the biggest change that Tucker could see was that she’d cut her hair. Her beautiful hair that had starred in too many of his adolescent fantasies—not that he wasn’t still adolescent, Tucker realized that at seventeen, he still had decades to go before he grew up—was now a swinging, shining coppery bob that fell even with her jaw line.

“Hi, Tuck!” she said and pulled him in from the snow that was dusting his jacket and beret.

“You cut your hair,” he managed to get out, and Jazz grinned, fingering the much shorter style a little self-consciously.

“Yeah, well, it’s easier to take care of this way,” she said with a shrug.

He chuckled a little, reaching his free hand out to run a hand through it, smiling at how she blushed prettily. He’d known Jazz Fenton for years, and known that he’d crushed on her a great deal of the time, much to his embarrassment and utter, utter secrecy. Then she’d gone off to college before he’d had more than a few weeks of courage to try flirting with her. _At least,_ Tucker thought on a sigh, _she sort of flirted back._

“Um,” Jazz said as she stepped away, fingers tracing the hair he’d touched. “Are you thirsty? Danny and Sam aren’t here.”

“Oh. Well, damn,” he muttered. So much for the plan.

Jazz arched a brow back at him. “I’m such bad company?”

“No!” Tucker exclaimed. “No, you’re great company.” He grinned as he shrugged his jacket off and hung it on a hook by the door, gloves poked into the pockets and mistletoe still firmly in one hand. “You’re great company. I just kind of wanted to mess around with Danny and Sam a little.”

Jazz laughed as she stopped and turned to face him, one foot on the bottom stair, the other on the ground. “I know that face, Tucker Foley. What trick do you have up your sleeve?”

He grinned as he moved closer to her, then lifted his hand over her head so that she had to look up… right at the sprig of mistletoe between his fingers. “Not a trick, more of a treat.”

“Wrong holiday, Tuck,” Jazz said softly as her blue green gaze dropped back to his steady jade eyes. “You got tall,” she murmured as he moved closer.

He smiled. “A lot can happen in a few years.” She didn’t have any more warning that that, certainly didn’t care for more as his lips pressed hesitantly to hers. They were softer than she’d expected, and she could feel the faintest hint at rough stubble above his lips, below them along his chin.

A little more than a hint as she lifted a hand to run along one cheek, almost pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, but not quite able to bring herself to do it. As it was, Jazz was beginning to feel eternally grateful to Tucker’s perverse sense of humor, and the slightly desperate attempts he tended to make to force his two best friends into admitting how they felt about each other. She certainly knew she was more than grateful for whatever imp of the perverse had made her decide to catch an early flight home.

“Jazz,” Tucker asked softly when he pulled back, her hand still on his face, and Jazz could feel the heat from his free hand on her back as it pressed her against him. “Why didn’t this ever happen?”

“You were fifteen,” she said quietly as she tried to pull back, only to look back up into his eyes as she realized he wasn’t going to let her.

“I’m not fifteen anymore.”

She smiled at the low tone of his voice, the way his throat almost seemed to vibrate as he said it. “No. You’re not.”

The mistletoe dropped from his hand forgotten as he pulled her closer, kissing her again and much more firmly this time, his lips pressing against hers, tongue darting out to trace the shape of her bottom lip before her mouth parted on a sigh to give him complete access. Tucker dipped his tongue into Jazz’s mouth, sliding it along hers and savoring the sweet flavor of her, still a little minty from her toothpaste, soft and sweet. He could feel her hands as the slid down his arm, fingers tight against the knit of his sweater.

“Tucker,” Jazz said, pulling away, still holding on to him but looking up at him. He flushed a little and started to apologize before she cut him off with one hand over his mouth. “We should continue this upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” She could almost hear his pulse speeding up, or maybe it was his heart stopping altogether.

She nodded and took one of his hands in hers before leading him up the stairs and to her room, locking the door firmly behind her.

“Your, uh, parents, Jazz,” he started, and Jazz shook her head as she stepped towards him, lifting her hands to slide his glasses from his face. They were new frames, he hadn’t had them the last time she’d seen him. Black, like before, but a rectangular shape that suited his face.

“My parents,” she said softly as she laid the glasses on her desk and turned back to him, “are at a seminar all weekend.”

A smile flashed across Tucker’s face, and he said, questioningly, “Danny?”

“Is doing all of his Christmas shopping with Sam riding shotgun.”

“So, um, this,” and Tucker reached out towards her, pulling her close again and ghosting his fingers down the curves of her side. “This is okay, then?”

“Of course, it’s okay, Tuck,” Jazz murmured as she pulled his face down to hers, kissing him again. “It would have been okay before, but you were fifteen.” The smile that she gave him was teasing as she slid her hands beneath the hem of his red sweater, working it up until he had to help her tug it off of him.

“I’m still only seventeen,” he said against the soft, pale skin of her throat as her fingers worked at the buttons of his undershirt.

The first button was undone, the second nearly when she smirked up at him. “But you’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. I mean, we can wait if you want—”

“No, no,” Tucker said as he stilled her hands and kissed her again. “Now is good.”

She flashed a grin at him and he chuckled as she finished undoing the button of his shirt and slid it over his shoulders and down his arms. “Someone’s been working out,” she murmured appreciatively as she smoothed her hand over the firm muscle.

“Three years of chasing after Danny will do that,” Tucker said wryly as he bent to untie his bootlaces and tug them off. His attention was redirected to the slim feet, toes painted in a dull red, and the smooth length of denim that ran up her leg.

He let his hands follow the seams, sliding up along her calves, her thighs, following the curve of her hips as his fingers slid under the hem of her shirt and began pushing it up, a slow, tortuous journey that revealed more smooth, pale skin with each moment, and a bright green bra. He grinned at her as he finished tugging the shirt off, sliding it up along her arms as she obediently lifted them and then letting it drop to the floor beside them as he dipped his mouth to trace to delicate curves of her breasts with his lips.

“Oh, Tuck,” he heard her whimper as his fingers slid to the waist of her jeans, the button coming undone easily, the zipper only more so. Then he was sliding them down her legs so that they pooled around her ankles and he could lift her free of them and lay her along the bed.

It was a relief that sometime during her senior year she’d abandoned the garishly pink themed room. He remembered that she’d once told him that the pink room had been a birthday present from her father when she was eight, and she just had been able to bear asking him to redecorate. She’d been saved the hassle when her mother had wanted to buy Jazz new furniture that didn’t match the pink walls. So instead of pink, it was now all greens and blues with hints of red. It suited her.

And so did the bed. A full-sized bed now instead of the twin that would have made Tucker following her to the bed somewhat interesting. But now he was able to stretch out next to her with no problem whatsoever, hand trailing along the silken skin of her side, slipping the thin green straps of her bra down to ask her silently to lift her back, arch it, and let him have access to the clasp. She did, and he did, removing it slowly.

She was beautiful, and he told her so. Milk white skin with a hint of pink, rosy nipples that he bent his head to taste. The way Jazz let her body go boneless beneath his mouth was gratifying, and Tucker gently rolled the nipple between his teeth listening avidly to the gasps she gave, the whimpers and moans as he moved to her other breast, slipping it inside his mouth and suckling.

He smiled as he flicked his tongue against her nipple, smiled as her body trembled, smiled when he listened to her gasp, “Tucker, please.”

Without a word Tucker let his mouth work down the slope of her breast, trailing along her ribcage before coming up to press a warm, gentle kiss to her belly button before stopping at the edge of her matching green panties with a hesitant look up. And when Jazz nodded, Tucker looped his fingers under the edges and pulled, sliding the scraps of satin and lace down her legs and not caring where they fell as the object of his fantasies lay naked and perfect before him.

“So,” he said with a smile as he lowered himself to her. “A natural redhead.”

“Tucker!” Jazz said as she rolled her eyes, and he only chuckled. She’d always been a natural redhead in his fantasies.

Gently he parted her legs, trailing one dark finger across white skin before letting it slip through the fiery curls to part slick flesh. He watched in fascination as her legs trembled and slipped farther apart as he slipped a finger slowly inside her, hot flesh clinging to him. The hissing breaths she took told him exactly how much she liked it and Tucker smiled as he moved the finger again before lowering his mouth to her, flicking his tongue out against the hard nub of her clitoris experimentally.

“Oh, god,” was all he heard, and Tucker did it again, gently sucking the flesh into his mouth as he slipped his finger back inside her, loving the way her body moved beneath his mouth. The sudden desire to taste her fully overwhelmed him, and he smiled against slick skin, soft curls as he lowered his mouth, letting his tongue replace the finger. Her hips jerked and Tucker only found himself fueled by the way she moved, the sounds she made as he moved his mouth against her more firmly.

“Tucker,” she moaned breathlessly. “Please, oh, god, please.”

A quick glance up showed Jazz, short red hair flared on the pillow beneath her head, a few strands plastered against her sweat slick skin. Her mouth was parted so slightly as she moaned again, but it was her hands that did it. Hands that were clenched into the bedspread, so tightly that the knuckles were tight, and then letting go in a desperate action to move across her body as she begged him for the release that was so close. In retrospect Tucker would acknowledge to himself, if no one else, that he’d never expected Jazz Fenton to be so abandoned in bed. Of course, he’d never expected her to drag him to bed when he’d barely seen her since she’d left for college nearly a year and a half ago.

But he could honestly say that, if he really thought about it, it was a long time coming, and that maybe Jazz was just that comfortable with him. She had to be, the way her hands were sliding across her stomach, fingers curled ever so slightly, nails dragging just a little to leave thin pink lines that had Tucker redoubling his efforts. And her back was arching, and Tucker could feel it as every single muscle in her body spasmed, clenched, tightened with the force of her release as he tasted her.

Even the way she cried out, and he was fairly sure that he’d heard his name in it, was something worthy of listening to. And when she was calm and still again, eyes half lidded and dark enough to almost be true green, Tucker pressed a gentle kiss to her slick flesh before moving up over her and lowering his mouth to hers. That she kissed him, not caring if the mingled flavors in his mouth were hers, had him groaning in anticipation. That she would quite forcefully push him back and then over onto the bed, had him straining against the denim of his jeans.

Jazz knew it, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she moved her hips against him before she practically slithered down his body, her fingers finding the waist of his pants and nimbly undoing the button and zipper before tugging hard enough that, even without him raising his hips to help, she’d yanked the material from beneath him and was shimmying it down his legs. The wicked smile she flicked up at him made Tucker shiver in anticipation as she stroked a finger down his length through the thin material of his boxers.

“Jazz.” Her name was soft on the air as it echoed from his throat, much more like a growled whimper than he wanted.

Then she was tugging again and his boxers were gone as her mouth moved carefully across his, pressing heated kisses against him before Tucker’s eyes slid closed and he savored the feeling of her tongue darting out to taste him. He groaned, there was nothing for holding it back, and he could almost feel her smiling against him as slim fingers wrapped around him and squeezed gently, stroked slowly. Then her mouth was on him, enveloping him in a deliciously hot wetness that nearly had Tucker coming then and there.

He knew that the harsh groans, the whimpers, the whispered pleas were coming from his mouth. Somehow it didn’t bother him at all that Jazz had him completely at her mercy with something as deceptively simple as her mouth. Just the opposite; he was reveling in the fact that he was hers. Hers. The faint thoughts of belonging were cut off abruptly as her fingers slid along his shaft, tightening and moving in time with her mouth, and Tucker groaned again as something inside him began to tense beneath the ministrations of her lips, her tongue.

“Jazz,” he whispered as she took him in again, and he groaned loudly. “Jazz, stop.”

She paused and glanced up at him. “You don’t want me to?”

He shook his head a little. “Not like this.” He knew she understood exactly what he meant, and understanding that they’d shared since the days she’d went along ghost hunting, and she let go of him with one last caress before sliding up his body, lithe and supple against him to kiss him as she slid a leg across him. Tucker shuddered at the feel of her heat just above him, and when she sat up, looking down at him, she smiled as she shifted her hips, rubbing herself against him catlike.

“Are you sure, Jazz?” he asked, suddenly worried, and she nodded as she took him in her hand again, one quick sensual movement that had him biting his lip as she started to lower herself onto him. It felt so good, so much better than good as her slick heat enveloped him, and Tucker closed his eyes relishing it. She was so warm, so wet, so—

“Have you even heard a word I’ve said?”

Tucker jerked upright nearly falling out of his chair as he blinked at Jazz owlishly. He felt a little weak, and knew that his pulse was going a mile a minute from his most recent fantasy. But really, it was just so hard not to fantasize about her when she looked like that. Tucker started to take a sip of his drink and frowned as he realized that it was gone, the ice was melted, and had been melted for quite a while.

He gave Jazz a weak smile. “I was listening. Really.” She arched an eyebrow and Tucker held his hands up in defense. “Really, you were at the center of every thought I had.”

“You know, Tuck, if you were bored you could have just told me. You didn’t have to sit there and completely zone out into whatever your latest technological obsession is. I would have been more than happy to leave you to whatever was so much more interesting than my answering your question. And if you didn’t want to know what I’ve been doing at school you shouldn’t have a—”

“Jazz?” Tucker said from where he was leaning forward, one hand on her mouth to silence her rant. He smiled as he held his other hand up, the sprig of mistletoe that he’d intended for Danny and Sam held there firmly. “You talk too much.”

It was better than the fantasy. The most recent one, the millions of them that he’d had since he’d discovered how attracted he was to her. She was soft, sweet, and, much to Tucker’s surprise, _she was kissing him back_. She was kissing him back, and was that her hand on his cheek? Sliding down so that her arms could wrap around his neck? Oh yeah, so much better than a fantasy since she was really kissing him.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Tucker stumbled back from Jazz as both of their heads whipped around to see Danny and Sam standing at the kitchen arch, the former looking furious, red-faced and ready to kill, the latter amused and a little surprised. Tucker glanced at Jazz, pride that she was as flushed as he could want circling through him for a moment before he turned his eyes back to his best friends and the problem of preserving his life.

He held up the hand with the now slightly crushed mistletoe. “Spreading the holiday cheer?”

He could tell that Danny wasn’t amused.


End file.
